In This Diary
by Slyth-PansyParkinson
Summary: -If you aren't pureblood and you aren't rich, don't expect me to waste my time on your pathetic excuse of an existence.- The diary of Pansy Parkinson, DMPP shipper type. R for language and some explicit content. R&R please.


**_A/N:_**_ This is my first attempt at writing fanfic here at Fanfiction.net. I've written stuff before, but try not to be too hard on me. Check out the sister site under the author's penname of **TerenceHiggs. Jay is a cool, cool chick. This is a development fic based on Pansy Parkinson, a Pansy and Malfoy shipper story. Please don't steal my stuff and if you want to feature it anywhere, please contact me about it. That'd be great. Other than that, read and enjoy! ****Slytherin****: the way to be. **_

**_Disclaimer: _**_This is obviously not really Pansy Parkinson so don't leave notes saying so. This is all based on Rowling's great, great books. Enjoy!_

****

****

**_Sept. 4_**

Dear Diary, 

I guess that's what I'll call you. Mother gave you to me as a going away present. She gets less and less inventive every year but at least it shows some consideration. This year, it was you. She says my sixth year at Hogwarts might bring about some intellectual and life-altering changes. What that means exactly, I don't really know, but since she's my mother, I might as well respect her wisdom and observe this year in _you_. That's right; feel honored. I don't waste my time on trivial affairs. 

Everything has been its usual boring self lately. 

I had double Herbology today with the Gryffindors. I swear, if Dumbledore is such a brilliant sod like all those lower class berks claim he is, why does he continually put the Gryffies and Snakes together? It doesn't make a Sickle of sense, but all hail the mighty Dumbledore. I could do the world a justice by doing away with him. Honestly. He and his mindless minions can go to Hades. I hate him. He's ruined the school. I never hear the end of it from mother and father, and I can't say I disagree. He's ruined us all. He's ruined the wizarding reputation. 

I have prefect duties after dinner tonight with Draco. We're going to be roaming the halls again. I guess that's the worst part. Giving out detentions to the idiots foolish enough to cross our paths is simply the amusing part…

He hasn't been his usual self lately and I've seen even less of him this summer. It doesn't surprise me. His father is on trial for being caught as a masked Deatheater. Damn that Potter and his meddling friends… One day, he'll pay for what he's done to Draco's family. I heard Draco's father's going to be in serious trouble if he doesn't find a liable excuse soon. I hope it works out all right, but somehow, I highly doubt money can salvage it this time. Never mind that though, Lucius possesses a brilliant mind. They wouldn't dare give him the kiss. Besides, everyone knows the Dementors are on our side. They'd never do it. He'll be out in no time. 

Millie calls. It's time for dinner then. I shall write more later. 

**_-Pansy_**

****

****

**¤x¤x¤**

Pansy Parkinson swept a soft mane of dark brown hair over her slender shoulder and closed the leather bound journal with a muted snap. She shoved it carelessly into her bag, laid her emerald coloured quill on her tabletop, and turned to face her best mate, Millicent Bulstrode, another sixth year. 

"Where's Magda?" Pansy asked as she swept her robes aside and walked out of the girls' dormitory and up a flight of stairs to the Slytherin common room with Millicent close behind. 

Before Millie could answer, Magdalena Nott, another sixth year Slytherin, stood up from one of the chairs nearby. She was dangling a paperback book from her right hand. Pansy tilted her head, took one look at the title, and smiled disdainfully. 

"I thought we'd cured you of reading such hogwash," Pansy sighed. 

"_Nighttime Rendezvous_?" Millicent asked with a short laugh. 

Magdalena had recently grown a fetish with witchly romance novels and heard no end of it from Pansy or Millicent. Pansy suspected it was due to the poor girl's lack of romantic liveliness, not that Magdalena wasn't pretty. In fact, Magdalena put many other girls to shame, but she'd been betrothed to Nathan Montague since a very young age and thus, had to remain chaste for marriage. Montague wasn't a romantic sort anyway. Handsome and rich though he was, for all Pansy knew, he had the temper of a manic bear. 

"Give it a chance…" Magdalena said as she tucked the book into an inner pocket of her silky, black robes. 

"Don't be silly, Magda. It's trash. That's all birds like Carla Corinne ever write about. Make-believe, pathetic, silly romance trash," Pansy said matter-of-factly. 

Magdalena simply shook her head. 

The three of them walked into the hallway together and headed for the Great Hall. Younger students and other houses scattered out of their way as they passed. The three of them looked formidable, stalking through the halls with their heads held high and talking in clipped, dangerous tones. No one was foolish enough to get in their way. Especially Pansy with her shiny, silver Prefect's badge pinned on the right side of her chest. 

They settled into their favored spot at the Slytherin table, right next to the Quidditch boys and Draco's lot. Blaise Zabini grinned as Pansy slid onto the bench infront of him. 

"Well, if it isn't Miss Parkinson and the rest of the lovely, lovely ladies," Blaise winked. 

Millicent threw a scone at his head and watched it hit his face satisfactorily. 

"Food first," Magdalena smiled. 

"And how are you ladies?" Mafloy asked, forking pieces of mince meat pie into his mouth. He tried for his usual sneer but Pansy noticed it felt pathetically sort of its usual brilliance. 

The years had been good to him. His white blonde hair was close cropped and he'd opted for a more natural style lately, instead of his usually slicked back look. Being on the Quidditch team had hardened him out a bit and he'd grown much taller since his first days terrorizing the halls of Hogwarts. His gray blue eyes flickered across Pansy's face and back to his plate. 

Pansy chose not to say anything. 

Magdalena's father had been caught last summer as well. Bringing up a touchy subject, was not to her liking. She was smarter than that. 

Pansy turned a head over her shoulder and stared at the group of Gryffindors clumped across the Great Hall. She gazed at disgust particularly at Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. She'd make sure they suffered this year if it was the last thing she'd do. 

Dinner flew by quickly, as usual. 

They received the usual grunt and nod from Nathan Montague as he passed, the snigger and popping of crackers as Price Bletchley left with Christopher Warrington dragging him out by the seat of his pants, the pat on the head and sly grin from Adrian Pucey, the fearful and adoring looks of Malcolm Baddock and his little friends as they walked by, and the usual skittish glances from the other students eating in the Hall. 

By the time the Hall began to empty out, Malfoy had swung himself off the bench and disappeared with Crabbe and Goyle hunkering out behind him. 

Pansy, Millicent, and Magdalena left soon after. 

"I'll see you later. I'm patrolling the halls for a bit now. Draco's probably already at it," Pansy sighed as they stepped into the cool and high-ceilinged corridor.

"All right then, Pans, we'll see you in the common room," Millicent said. 

"Yes, catch an ickle Gryffie and make him cry," Magdalena smiled. 

Pansy watched them walk away and turned to clamber up the stairs towards the hallway leading to Gryffindor Tower, intent on finding some prat at his Gryffie best, when someone grabbed her by the arm and jerked her backwards.

She shrieked, but righted herself in a second, prepared to slap whoever had dared touch her, when she looked into a pair of familiar gray eyes. 

"Salazar's teeth, Draco, what do you think you're doing?" Pansy hissed. She wrenched out of his grasp and stepped backwards coldly. She shook her hair back and within a second, no one would be the wiser, she looked as unruffled as ever. 

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. 

Pansy glared inch-for-inch.

"Parkinson, we need to talk." 


End file.
